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August 2, 2003
Deja vu. Walking down Main Street in search of a surf store my swimming buddy mentioned, I swear everything indicates moving to Paris. At least that’s what I infer. There goes ‘Tour Eiffel’ on the corner - nevermind that it’s actually Vietnamese Pho(??); Voila Hair Design; Foreign waiters luring me into Ristorante Something-or-Other (Italian, but close); then a travel agency. Sure, the only French I know is ”Voulez vous coucher avec moi” (thanks Christina!), but I’d learn! Do I turn the knob, take a leap, buy the ticket? Of course not. Do I find the surf store? Of course not.